


Here to Stay

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Series: Happy Ending Guaranteed [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Dean, Castiel is a shower-singing dork, Dean Winchester Likes Castiel, Falling In Love, M/M, and likes Dean very much, do we really need lables cuz they are simply, i guess, mini drabbles, or rather grey-a!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You see, I have been told so often that I’m just, what’s the word? Ah, yes, stuck up and should get on with it,” Dean once said, and Castiel had squeezed his hand a bit tighter, and Dean had almost missed how the other man’s jaw had clenched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here to Stay

Dean _should_ be afraid, scratch that, he should be _terrified_.

Ever since meeting Castiel, his world has gone all topsy-turvy.

He had had carved a place for everything, his books, movies, people around him and especially his friends, music - he’s had a day for nose hair trimming, for Heaven’s sake.

Enter Castiel. Boisterous, loud, a storm on two legs, pulling and tugging at the picturesque life Dean had thought he had weaved for himself. True, the fringes of this picture would always be a bit frayed, and he would - reluctantly, mind you - allow for some threads to be added, interweaved with his very essence, but in the end, all would be clipped, either by his doing or, more often, by another losing patience.

Here and there a new splash of colour had entered his life’s picture, but of the few times it had, Dean was quick to clip the thread, preferring the short termed discomfort of adjusting to being alone again to outstretched times of displeasure with another.

Too cruel, too obnoxious, too proud, too quick, never enough time for Dean, who just didn’t really know if or when he wanted to do things. Boasting of things not done but declared a “supposed truth”, using Dean to brag, effectively scaring him away, always a bit too urgent to wait for Dean to _get on with it_.

“You see, I have been told so often that I’m just, what’s the word? Ah, yes, _stuck up and should get on with it_ ,” Dean once said, and Castiel had squeezed his hand a tiny bit tighter. Dean had almost missed how the other man’s jaw had clenched, and wondered what kind of words were swallowed back.

“I was once called frigid, but I’m not, I have needs of this nature too,” Dean had (in not such a steady voice) assured Castiel one evening. Castiel had kissed him almost senseless, and noticed Dean's soft gulps for air and almost silent gasps, but pulled away more and more, gradually, and Dean, in his fear of being tossed away for being too slow for the world, again, had poorly attempted to _just get on with it_.

Castiel had kissed his forehead, once again his lips, but when he leaned back and when Dean started to follow, he had only smiled and gently, but firmly, pushed Dean back at his shoulders. “We have time,” Castiel had said.

 

Dean _is_ , in fact, terrified. Because whichever kind of tapestry he had been weaving for his own life, so has Castiel, and they have merged, fringes slowly knitting together tighter and faster than Dean had ever thought possible, and now he looks at a double-layered picture.

Castiel is slow where others were fast - he’ll wait. He’s quick where others were reluctant - quick to admit that, yes, he likes sex. A lot. And considers it important, but not the act itself is important to him - the feeling necessary for sex is. And anyway, he likes Dean more, and is happy just like this.

He’s patient where others were not. He wants to wait, and impatient where Dean can only smile and roll his eyes. After all, Castiel will always risk a bite before the pie they made is cooled down enough to not burn his tongue. And Dean is the one supposed to have no control whatsoever when it comes to pie.

So on this sunny winter day, Dean wakes up with a lot of Castiel wrapped around him, non-intrusive, comforting, reassuring, soothing and he understands.

He understands that Castiel is here to stay. That in what has now been close to two years, he had never pushed, but managed to get under Dean’s skin anyway.

He had, in fact, draped himself all over Dean, burying him under tenderness, care, affection, passion; on several levels. Castiel, with sods of cherry-scented shampoo adorning his head like a crown, singing Seals _Kiss From A Rose_ , or, worse, Foreigner’s _I Want To Know What Love Is_ , with a callus brush as a makeshift microphone, winking at Dean. Waking him up at two in the morning to, “ _let’s go take a look at the stars, Dean, the sky is magnificent tonight_ ,” and draping himself around Dean, covering them both with an Afghan against the chill, never allowing Dean to feel any kind of coldness.

Dean is buried alive in gentleness and adoration, patience ever present and today, he might just like to try to take another step. And if it turns out to be too much, he feels, he knows in his very core, that Castiel will remain, that even in this case, the other man is still here to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> if this is offensive to anyone, I am ready to learn, so please teach me kindly.


End file.
